THESE SCARS
by Jedi-Master-Nightwing
Summary: Nightwing escorts Joker to Arkham; but then something goes horrifyingly wrong, and he ends up trapped in an abandoned apartment complex with the maniac...and Red Hood. Tim (Red R.), Bruce (Batman), & Damian (Robin) can't find them, and Dick may not be able to stop Jason's anger; but maybe its finally time to send the devil back to hell were he belongs.
1. Chapter 1

**So here's my first Batman multi-chapter fanfiction! So nervous, so nervous. Especially since I have three Star Wars stories going, and a novel, and school, updates probably won't be steady. But they'll come! This story kept turning around in my head, and I can't ignore it any longer. Um, I've never read the Batman comics, but I do know this takes place sometime around after ****_Battle for the Cowl_****, and if you read this, make sure you know everyone's secret ID's and stuff. **

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><p>"Are you sure about this?" asked the tall, black-cloaked figure for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the past hour. Even via holographic projection, the tight, worried lines exposed beneath the cowl, along with the slightly higher tone of his voice, made it obvious that the Batman was worried. <em>And I have reason to<em>, told the Dark Knight to himself. _I should be down there, not trapped up here in space_.

'Down there' meaning Gotham, the little, corrupted city that the Batman and his partners watched over day and night. However, with the Knight away on an intergalactic mission with the Justice League, Red Robin patrolled the streets with Nightwing. Nightwing, who protected Bludhaven, Gotham's 'dirty little sister'. Nightwing, eldest son of the Batman, older brother to the Red Hood and the Robins.

Nightwing, whom the GCPD had just asked to personally help escort the psychotic villain known as Joker from the normal prison downtown to the hell hole known as Arkham Asylum.

And at the moment, it was Nightwing who watched the Batman's hologram with an eye roll and a small sigh. "For the tenth time in the past five minutes: _yes_," the twenty-year-old replied, crossing his arms. "Bats, I've got this. In fact, the entire GCPD has got this. And Red Robin. Joker's not getting away, not this time."

_I've heard that promise one too many times, and every single time that monster has taken another life. _"Give me your route," demanded the older man, struggling to sound detached from the anxiety bubbling in his gut.

Another sigh. "I've already told you several times…"

"Tell me again." This time, he put a growl into his words. _Don't fight me on this, Dick. Not about this. _

The young man seemed to receive the unspoken plead in his voice, because with a small nod, Nightwing complied. "Okay, okay. GCPD is going to have Joker placed inside an armored, guarded truck, and will be surrounded completely by an entire squad. I'll ride my bike right of the truck, and Red Robin will take the left. Our strategy is to pass the Gotham cemetery, and take the longer but less crowded area of the slums. Once we're through there, we'll go up Morir Hill, and dump the Joker into another of his usual cells. All this will take place at exactly 3:00 tonight. Which, by the way, is in an hour, so I'd best make sure everything's all set and ready."

Despite the thorough telling of their plans, the Bat-glare remained plastered on the holograms face; and Nightwing ran a distressed hand through raven locks of hair. _Don't make me worry about you worrying tonight, Bruce; I'm nervous enough as it is_. "Look, everything is blue-printed and memorized forwards and backwards," he said quietly, letting his features soften in understanding. "Nothing should go wrong – nothing _can _go wrong. So… try not to worry, okay? Focus on your mission with Superman, and I'll contact you as soon as Joker's back in his little box of insanity."

"Do you already have a contingency plan?" _Of course they have a plan B_, the Batman chastised himself. But he wanted to hear it from his son's mouth personally.

"We're ready for ambushes, full frontal assaults, bombings, shoot outs, a helicopter using a magnet to hijack the truck, an inferno wiping out our route, a flood, a zombie apocalypse, a My Little Pony revolt, _and _the normal 3am traffic," was the light reply. "Yeah, we have a decent contingency plan."

The holographic Batman nodded. "I know, I know. I'm being a meddlesome, undignified snoop."

"Nah, just a concerned Bat looking out for his birds," reassured Nightwing. "And I'm grateful. And Robin will be too, once he hears that you've called. Again."

"Mhm. I hope you two managed to get some rest before pulling this all-nighter."

The acrobatic vigilante tapped his cranium. "Energy tanks are full of sleep and six cups of coffee. All good."

"Please tell me you're joking about the coffee."

"Yes, yes I am. Wait, no. Yes. No. Yes, hold on, no. Wait…!"

It seemed only his eldest son could bring out the warm chuckle that escaped the Knight's throat, which was then followed by a grumbled profanity. "Superman is summoning me like he wants to talk. I need to go."

A small nod. "Okay. Good luck, and I'll see you when I get back."

"Mm," was the gruff reply. The Batman personae was set in stone once more. "Good luck, and be careful."

"You too. Bye."

And the hologram disappeared.

For a few, silent moments, he simply stood rooted to the Gotham Library's rooftop, breathing in the fresh scent that the city had to offer at night; which consisted mainly of 20% oxygen, and 80% gasoline, oil, and other… things. A crisp breeze threw his hair to one side, and the moon was full. _Nice night to escort scum to scum villa_, was the thought that blew through his mind.

Finally capturing the Joker after an entire three months of hunting the psycho down was like Christmas in July. The clown's last stunt – turning the Gotham Mall into a 'funhouse' – had killed thirteen, and put 20 in the hospital. And though, somewhere in the back of his fearful mind, that the horrid sadist would find another way to escape and cause havoc, a few more months of knowing he was behind bars was reassuring.

_Maybe… maybe he'll actually stay there this time_, Nightwing grimaced. _Maybe he's had his last laugh…_

_…__nope. No way. _

_But is it so bad to wish that he might suffer a beautiful coronary sometime in the near, near, __**near **__future? _He didn't see anything _too _wrong with the desperate desire, and paused a moment, listening to his mobile police scanner, waiting to see if a sudden call for an ambulance came from the downtown prison.

Nothing but static.

_Oh well_. With a barely-contained sigh, a grappling hook made an appearance, and was launched across the street to the brick building nearby. With an expert series of leaps and swings, Nightwing traveled back to the Batcave entry point, where Red Robin was already waiting on his motorcycle.

"Dick, did Bruce call again?" were the first words leaving the younger boy's mouth when his older brother appeared. "Because if he wants to talk to me, I'm busy."

"Relax, Timmy, he called earlier then hung up. We debriefed and now he's gonna leave us alone. I have a feeling Uncle Clark is chewing him out for calling so many times."

Tim Drake, all donned in his Robin uniform, couldn't fight back a smile. "If there were ever a battle between Batman and Superman, who do you suppose will win?"

Richard (Dick) Grayson slipped into a chair before the main Cave computer, and shrugged his shoulders. "I'd rather not choose between them," he said honestly. "And let's hope that that battle never happens."

"Agreed. Are we leaving yet?"

"Right after I check in with Commissioner Gordon and make sure nothing's happened." Fingers flew across the keyboard, bringing up the private link between Gotham City Police Department and the Batcave. "Hey," he called over his shoulder. "Where's Alfred by the way?"

"Upstairs cleaning the silver."

Fingers paused, and the frown from before appeared. _Cleaning the silver… that means he's worried. Aaaalfred… I'm feeling bad enough about Bruce, now you too?_ "Did he say anything?"

"Besides commanding that we both return without a single scratch from that 'bloody aberration' or we're grounded for the rest of our lives?" The sixteen-year-old slid off his bike and strode over to the other. "Oh, and just a heads up: Damian's _pissed_."

_Ooh, forgot about that_. Damian Wayne, aka Robin, was no doubt up in the Manor, scowling at a wall or taking out his anger on an innocent punching bag. Dick leaned back in the chair, wincing. _You know I'd have you out there by my side if this mission were any different_, he mentally called out to his youngest brother. _But I can't let you out there – not tonight. Not when it so directly involves… him._ The last time Dick and Damian had faced off the Joker, it had been as Batman and Robin; and the now-twelve-year-old had been in the infirmary for nearly a month. "I'll need to make it up to him somehow," Nightwing sighed. "You know I'd let him out there with us, but…"

"But he'd get his ass handed to him."

"Exactly; and quit the language, there's no need for it right now."

"Sorry – he'd get his _butt_ handed to…"

"Timmy." _Don't start an argument with Dami right now, Tim. I need you to be the mature one with me tonight. We __**both **__have to be smart for this assignment_.

Immediately, the teen's face grew serious. "Sorry, really I am. We've still got around thirty minutes before we head out. Maybe you can talk to him, or something."

"Yeah, I'll have to." There was no way he wanted to go out there tonight knowing the littlest bird was furious with him. With a quick prayer that the boy wasn't _too_ enraged, Nightwing stripped off his mask and made his way upstairs into Wayne Manor. "Call up Gordon for me, will ya Tim?"

"Already on it." Indeed, the younger was already in the chair, typing away; so Dick turned and entered through the hidden passageway located in the building's man parlor.

He crossed paths with Alfred first, the Englishmen scrubbing every piece of silverware with a fervent gusto that proved the elder man's theory – that working meant keeping your mind off of current problems and worries. Dick shot the butler a sympathetic and reassuring glance, offering a weak smile. "Hey, Alfred. I know about the 'no costumes in the Manor' rule, but we're leaving soon and I want to find Dami."

Alfred looked up from his duties, heavy dark eyes resting on the younger man for several long moments. "Indeed, I say Master Damian retreat to his bedroom in quite a foul move," was the slow reply. "I suspect it has to do with your adventures tonight."

Another hand-running-through-hair motion occurred, which was becoming quite a habit. "Yeah, I'm sure it's because I chose Tim instead of Robin to be my partner tonight."

"Hm. Might I voice my own opinion that I desire _none _of you were to be assigned your appointed task for this evening?"

Dick exhaled quietly, nodding while trying to sound positive. "Don't worry, Alfred. It's not like we're going to fight that freak tonight. We're just an extra precaution for his escort to Arkham."

The elder turned back to his work, but added, "And, Master Richard, might I voice another inquiry of mine, as to whether it be possible that the Joker should fall into a manhole on his way to the escort truck and drown?"

A small chuckle. "Quite possible, Alfred, quite possible. Believe me, everyone has been having thoughts like that, and not just tonight." _Believe me. _"I'm going to find Damian, now, and I'll see you before we leave."

"Alright then. Good luck, young sir."

Dick tossed the older man a friendly wave before taking the long, narrow staircase two steps at a time, making a beeline for Damian Wayne's bedroom. He stopped inches from the door, slowing down his breathing and listening.

Not a sound from inside.

_Hm. _Gingerly, he reached forward, and knocked quietly.

No answer.

_Dami, c'mon, don't shut me out_. He knocked again, this time adding a, "Damian, it's Dick" to his request to enter.

Nothing.

_Daaaaaaaamian…_ "C'mon, little bro, I know you're in there. Can I come in and talk?"

Still silence.

"Please?" And finally, with not a peep from within, "Dami, if you don't open up, I'm gonna bust through here whether or not I'm welcomed. Last chance."

Not even a grunt in response. _Okay then_. Grateful he was decked up in his Nightwing suit, it wasn't a problem to pick the lock, and swing the door open. The bedroom was empty, to his shock; but a quick look around showed the double-shutter window wide open, letting the cold winds inside.

_The roof_, he mused as he climbed onto the windowsill and began climbing up. _I used to come up here when I was sad or upset with Bruce. Dami…_

Sure enough, when he was finally safely crouched on the rooftop of Wayne Manor, he spotted the younger boy curled up near one of the three Manor chimneys, curled up under the folds of a large, black jacket so that only to spiked top of his hair was visible.

"Dami?" whispered Dick ever so quietly, hoping to get at least a glance from the boy – which he did not get. Frowning sadly, the older of the two brothers crept closer until they were only a few, maybe five, feet away from each other. "Little D?" he called, hoping the pet name he had made for the child would provide a response.

He did, at least, get a voice; if not one filled with bitterness and pain. "Go away, Grayson."

"Not until we talk," Dick replied patiently, scooting over the rest of the distance and flinging an arm across the smaller frame. "C'mon, Dami. Tell me what's going on?"

"As if you don't already know," spat the younger. "You're not an idiot, and I certainly am not. You know why I do not wish to be in your presence yet you followed me anyway."

"It's because I wanted to patch things up before I left. You said so yourself, you're definitely not an idiot. So you know why I don't want you out there tonight."

Finally, Damian turned to face the older boy, eyes set in a fierce Bat-glare – eyes also filled with rejection and a bit of fear, Dick realized. "It is not bad enough that you are letting that imbecile Drake have your back instead of me, but you have forbidden me from leaving this property altogether." _Haven't I proven myself over and over_, were the wailing thoughts running through his mind. _Haven't I given up my mother's training, my own instincts, __**everything**__ to fight by __**your **__side? It was with you that I became Robin, not Father. So why are you pushing me away now? For Drake?_ "It's not fair!"

"I know, I know," Dick soothed, tightening his embrace on the stiff, angry child. "Nothing ever seems fair while you wear that cape and the yellow 'R'. But this really is for the best, Damian, and I need you to see that. I need you to trust me, and I promise I'll make it up to you when you get back."

The scowl was still in place, but slowly declining. "But why Drake? Have I not showed you that I can handle myself just as well as he can? Have you already forgotten that we _both _took down the Joker together, without Father or Red Robin?"

Dick looked down, saw the moisture threatening to grow in those eyes below him. _Damian_, his heart cried. _You always try to pretend like you're a killer, a pariah; but you really aren't. You want to be accepted just as much as any child your age. If only Tim and the others can see that. _"Of course not, Damian, I never could! You know that. But… right now, this is just me being paranoid. After the last time…"

"You claimed that had not been my fault!" _I screwed up once, and now I'm never allowed to fight that clown again? _

"And it's not! It was mine. And that's the reason why…"

At that moment, the little red light on the wrist of Dick's elbow-length gloves began beeping and flashing, seconds before Tim's voice came through the speakers. "Dick, we've got to go now. Commissioner just called and said they're almost ready."

_So soon? _He glanced at Damian, who now looked less angry and more miserable, but still plenty upset. "We'll talk when I get back, I swear," he said reluctantly, getting to his feet and backing towards where he had climbed up. "I really want to discuss this, but I have to go." _I really want , __**need**__, to figure this out, Damian. I thought you would understand that I'm just trying to protect you? Do you still think I'm playing favorites with you and Tim? Ugh… now you've lost all your anger and just look sad. Damian… _"I'm so sorry…"

However, as soon as he saw it, the sorrow disappeared from the youth's face, replaced by a hard mask. "There is no need for this discussion to be continued _ever_," the boy said bluntly. "And no need for your apologies. Go now, and leave me alone." He returned to his original position, if not curled up a bit tighter than before.

Damian was positive that Dick called out to him some more before the young man disappeared back inside the manner. But stubborn grudging prevented him from turning back around until he was sure that he was gone. When he then turned to look over his shoulder, he was alone on the roof – and five minutes later, the sound of two motorcycles – a very faint sound – could be heard leaving Wayne property.

A chilling breeze blew through the treetops, and the boy curled up even more, drawing his knees to his chest and clutching his coat around him. _You'd better not fail him, Drake_, he thought firmly, growling a bit. _And you, Grayson… you'd better come back in one piece._

_I mean it. You'd better_.

_Please._

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><p><strong>Review!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, isn't this just short of a miracle: an update in a reasonable amount of time. For me, that's pretty rare. **

**So, here's chapter 2 for this story. Thank you to the followers, favorites and reviewers I got on the last chapter; and for more stories written like this, go to this ingenious Batman writer: paganpunk2. Seriously, those are some of the best Batman fanfictions I have ever read.**

**A/N: The Joker design for this story is based on the New 52 comic version. You can google for a picture of him if you need a reference. **

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><p>The temperature continued to drop as two motorcycles sped through the dank streets of Gotham, clouds soon blotting out the stars and a thin fog growing thicker with each minute that passed. The last tendrils of autumn could be felt slipping away into the swiftly approaching winter; a chilling feeling which, usually, Dick would've welcomed. But the biting, nippy cold was quite uncomfortable when added to the frigid winds that washed over his exposed face as he rode his cycle. He quickly glanced at his younger brother, and felt the smallest twinge of jealousy at the dark cowl and cape that made itself part of Red Robin's uniform. The tight spandex and Kevlar of his own suit provided maximum flexibility and decent protection; but exposure to the elements always proved to be a minor problem.<p>

Up ahead, the dull lighting of the GCPD's downtown prison sparkled like tiny beacons in the fog. Observing with a grimace how steering needed a bit more strength to do because of the slippery dew on the ground, Nightwing pulled up in front of the station, along with Red Robin, where several squad cars and the barred escort truck awaited. Over a dozen officers and a squad of SWAT troopers wandered around the outside, some pacing to shake off the chills, others out of sheer anxiety.

A newcomer to Gotham would laugh at the worried wrinkles on each man's face, the heavy dread lingering in the air. One man, a single felon; and yet they had a SWAT team, a large escort cavalry, and two masked vigilantes present to escort him? For one man?

Dick wished he could laugh too; if his mind wasn't still trembling with memories of his last fight with the monster known as Joker. If he still didn't have the scars, didn't still remember just how motionless and pale Damian had been as he dragged him from that burning hotel several months ago…

"Nightwing?"

Red Robin's voice broke into the older boy's thoughts as the teen watched his brother with concern. "You okay?" he continued. "Do you need to…"

"Nah, I'm good, Red," immediately replied the Bludhaven hero, shaking his head to clear his mind. _I'm good, I'm good, I'm fine…_ Another frigid breeze caught him off guard, and he unintentionally shuddered, not helping to erase Tim's steady gaze.

"Look." Red Robin turned his eyes to the ground, nudging an old, dented can with his foot. "I know I wasn't here when it happened; but I heard a pretty detailed account from Alfred about the fight before. Y'know, with Robin…"

"Yeah, I know." Another image flashed through his brain, Damian's white face and cold skin, the hot crimson puddle that stained the ground, the walls, the small boy that Nightwing tried so desperately to wake. _No, no, stop thinking about that, stop it…_

"All I'm saying is… maybe, just maybe… I'll go with these guys and you can wait at Arkham as a backup…"

"What?!" Immediately, Tim had Dick's full attention, the young man spinning around, the lenses of his mask wide in shock. "I'm going to pretend you never even _thought_ that," Nightwing said stiffly. _You've got to be insane if you think I'd __**ever **__let you do this alone, Timmy. I can't believe you even __**mentioned**__ that._

Red Robin flinched, but took the response in stride. "I'm just being logical. I know what happened the last time you and Robin faced that clown; and I know it was really awful. It's not like anything can happen anyway, and this way, you won't even have to see him."

"The answer is no. End of discussion." He crossed his arms, frowned, gave his best impression of a Bat-glare just to show he didn't want to hear any more arguments. _Because his offer actual __**is **__tempting_, he thought miserably. _And I might accept it. And I __**will not **__do that. Won't let something happen because I'm having a bit of trouble letting certain things go._

Tim watched Dick turn back around, even more tense before, and stifled a sigh. _Just keep it together, Dick_. _We… we can't let that freak in there get under our skin like this_. It was a hopeless counsel – of course Joker would always find a way to break the Batman's strange, fragile family – but he told himself it over and over anyway. For sanity's sake.

Suddenly, the gates of the prison opened, and Commissioner Jim Gordon stepped out into the driveway, quickly exchanging a few words with several officers before approaching the two vigilantes with a grave expression.

"We all appreciate you helping out with this escort," the gray-haired man said, shaking hands with both Nightwing and Red Robin.

"It's no problem Commissioner, really."

The policeman's gaze lingered on the two youths before him for a moment. After several years of watching the Batman and then the Knight's partners, he'd gained a decent understanding of how the heroes of Gotham worked, right after the entire GCPD gave up on trying to find out the identities of Gotham's protectors. And one important fact he suspected was that they were more than just partners; almost like a family. He'd watched each Robin and the Batman interact, the way that their nearly flawless masks slowly became transparent when in dire circumstances. He'd seen one get injured at the others' emotionless walls crumble, and more than once he could have sworn he'd heard them call each other "brother".

And not even the uniforms, cowls, and lensed masks could hide the youth of the four sidekicks of the Dark Knight.

So when Gordon told of his respect and gratefulness that Nightwing and Red Robin were willing to help his men on this mission that others would find simple and easy, he was not exaggerating. _These kids have dealt with that maniac so many times they deserve all the wealth Gotham can afford. _"We're getting ready to move him now. You know your positions?"

"We ride perpendicular to the escort truck," replied Red Robin easily. "We've got the route memorized. How well…" He cleared his throat a bit. "…um, how… I mean, how do you have him secured exactly?"

"Straight jacket, wrists and ankles shackled, two guards with him at all times."

Nightwing quirked an eyebrow. "What about a gag?" _I really, __**really **__don't want to hear that horrid laughter tonight._

"We've got that covered to," reassured Gordon, sounding relieved himself.

At that moment, the lights glaring from outside the vicinity seemed to double in strength, and several more officers jogged out of the gates. "They're bringing him out!" one shouted, and everyone began moving into their positions.

_He can't get away this time. No matter what, I'm making sure he gets to Arkham and __**stays **__there_. Nightwing climbed back onto his cycle, and Red Robin mimicked his movements as he spotted the bright orange of a prison uniform appear through the fog. _Bruce said the Joker gave himself a 'makeover' since my mission with Damian. He told me to be prepared for anything, and now I can see that…_

_…__good god…_

Through the gate, onto the sidewalk outside came the swooning, shivering creature that had haunted Gotham for as long as Dick could remember. The most obvious features of the horrendous clown – the stringy green hair brushed backwards in a large knot, the sickening white pallor of his skin, those demonic yellow/green eyes – all remained intact.

It was when both vigilantes laid eyes on that repulsive face that Nightwing felt his blood run cold; and from Red Robin's barely muffled gasp, he guessed he hadn't seen the Joker recently either.

_…__good god, his face is detached…_

Indeed, the skin on Joker's face seemed to have been ripped off and then reattached; Nightwing could see the massive staples keeping his features attached to his head. Lips not only scarred now but stretched upwards to swallow most of his face, revealing a raw jaw, gave the smile that must have, _must have_, belonged to Satan himself.

Those eyes, now completely exposed in all their horrific glory, latched onto the Knight's partners, and grew wide in psychotic adrenaline, Joker staggering a few steps forward before being shoved roughly inside the escort truck. The doors were slammed, locked, and barred with a loud clanging and ringing that reverberated off the buildings and street.

It took several minutes for the reality of the situation to settle in Red Robin's gut; and when it did, he felt like bringing it all back up and out, his stomach twisting in a rarely-felt way. "What the hell happened to him?" he breathed, wincing when his voice gave way to a treacherous tremor.

Gordon turned to face them, frowning deeply. _That's right… it was only the Batman who turned that freak in last time. _"You haven't seen him recently, have you?" he asked slowly.

Nightwing blinked several times. "N-No, not recently." He gripped the handlebars of his bike tighter, braced himself. "I'm guessing whatever he did to himself is the reason he hasn't been escorted to Arkham earlier?"

"He needed medical attention." The commissioner made it clear that he sounded regretful and hostile at this fact. "We were forced to treat him. That maniac did that to _himself_. Took a knife and…"

"We get it," Red Robin interrupted quickly. _I've heard enough. Better not to ask how, when, or why._

A sharp exhale. "Yes, I suppose you do. Look, I'm sorry you boys had to see that…"

"We've seen plenty like it, Commissioner, unfortunately," replied Nightwing. "It's alright. We should get going now – sooner that creep is behind bars, the sooner Gotham can sleep a little safer tonight."

Gordon nodded heavily, giving one last empathetic look at the two younger men before turning to enter his squad car. "Alright, guys. We're moving out! C'mon, let's get going!"

Headlights came to life with the roaring of engines, the squeaking of wheels beginning to turn onto the slippery roads. Nightwing started his bike, and waited 'till Red Robin had his up and running. "Be careful" he mouthed over to the younger boy, and Tim responded with an equally silent "You too" and a head nod.

The escort truck began moving forward, and soon, both motorcycles were riding smoothly on each side, with police cars forward and behind. It was almost like a funeral procession. _And I would enjoy this so much more if it actually __**was **__a funeral procession for that monster_, Nightwing thought grudgingly; but then he chastised himself. _I work with the Batman – I'm not supposed to kill, or rejoice in killing. _

_But thoughts can't do any harm. _

_Right?_

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><p>With heavy, grudging footsteps, Damian Wayne clambered down the twisting staircase of the Manor, making sure he exhaled several times, forcing each sigh as long and loud as possible. These obvious signs of frustration and distress immediately caught the ears of the passing-by English butler, who turned to stare at the boy who perched on bottom step, face screwed in an intimidating but also wretched pout.<p>

Alfred took a moment to gaze compassionately at his grandson not by blood, but in every way that _did_ matter; before he placed down his fifth tray of silver and sat himself down by the child's side. He looked down at him, and then realized with a lift of his eyebrows the earbuds placed in those small ears.

"Master Damian?" When his first call went unanswered, the elder nudged the boy softly on the shoulder, repeating his previous request. "Master Damian?"

Finally, after a third attempt, Damian pulled the wires from his ears and scowled. "There's a storm tonight," he said gravely, not even bothering to look up at the older man. "It'll hit Gotham in a matter of minutes, they say. Wet sleet, deadly traveling weather. I've been listening to the radio, thinking maybe the forecast would change; but it just keeps getting worse."

Alfred couldn't help the deep frown and those cold hands that clawed at his heart upon hearing that information; but he managed a weak smile and pat the youngest Wayne on the shoulder. "How about, Master Damian, you place down that radio, I place down my cleaning, and we both have a nice cup of hot chocolate in the kitchen. I do believe I have a hidden stash of mint-chip cookies somewhere in the cupboards as well."

Damian chewed on his lower lip, thinking this over. His fingers clutched his Walkman. "If something happens, though, wouldn't you want to hear it immediately? Also, that 'hidden stash' is probably long gone by now. I heard Grayson scheming with Drake on how to get their hands on them while you were taking out the trash this morning."

His smile grew a little more genuine at that amusing thought. "Oh well, then. I suppose I'll just have to whip up another batch, and you can accompany me, if you desire?" _I know you want to, you dear child. It's only the two of us in the Manor today – I could use the company. And you could use a letting down of those dreaded walls you keep up all day; just like your father. _

There was a war on the boy's face for several seconds, his gaze switching from the marble tiling beneath his feet to the Walkman in his hands; before he finally set the radio aside and crossed his arms. "I suppose that supervising you in the kitchen would not do any harm," he said slowly. Suddenly, at that moment, there was the sound of pattering against the hall windows, and he shivered. He glanced up at Alfred, eyes gleaming. _First Joker, now a storm. Things really are going from uncomfortable to downright miserable for you right now, Grayson, I bet._ "I do hope that your confidence in Drake's driving skills are greater than mine."

"Indeed, I have the utmost faith that Master Richard _and _Master Timothy are at the peak of their skills in that department; as do I have that same trust in the GCPD." The phrase was meant to reassure himself just as much as his surrogate grandson, and he clutched to that sentence. "Now then, shall we head into the kitchen."

"Yeah, sure. Okay."

As child and butler left the hall, the quickly-freezing rain fell harder, more violently, as if the heavens themselves wept for what was about to happen.

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><p>"Damn it!"<p>

Red Robin bit down on his tongue, cutting off anymore vulgarities that attempted to escape his lips as he sharply turned his vehicle to the right, narrowly missing a sliding collision with the street corner. _Driest weather in Gotham for what seems like years, and __**today**__ has to be the day of this williwaw? _He hunched over his bike more, letting the folds of his cape envelope him as much as possible. Dirty spray from the wheels of the escort truck splattered his face, and he was grateful like never before that he had his cowl for protection. _I hope Dick's okay. _He considered using their ear comm.s and checking up on the young man, but then leaned against it. _Talking will distract us_, he chastised himself. _And the last thing we need right now is a distraction_.

The fog didn't clear with the frigid rain, but instead seemed to grow denser with each passing minute. Only the headlights and his own memorization of Gotham's streets kept his confidence from dropping into the negative numbers, quickly assessing that they were now in the slums.

_Halfway there. Already halfway there. _He had no idea how long they had been riding, but at the moment, he didn't really care. _We're halfway to Arkham, and Joker's still inside that truck. We're doing okay. We're doing okay._

The buildings around them now were shabby and broken brick, several apartment complexes up ahead, with dingy shops and shady alleys all around them. They splashed through a rather deep puddle, and he felt the moisture freeze his lower calf and feet. _Good grief, why would they pick __**today**__ to escort Joker? Didn't they watch the forecast?_

But then, he stopped those thoughts, reasoning them away. _But then again, neither did I nor Dick. _

More spray washed over his face, and then his back; he craned his head a bit to see one of the squad cars providing him with a nice shower. _Ugh_. He hit the throttle just a bit more, moving upwards.

The car followed, along with the spray.

_Cold, cold, cold._ He moved his bike again, and felt his gut twist when the car moved so that it was by his side once more.

_Dude, I get your trying to be just as secure as I am, but I've __**got **__this side covered. Stop giving me hyperthermia and guard the back with your cop buddies. _Tim swerved, and the car swerved. He sped up, the car sped up.

It was then that his brain began clicking and zapping, putting together evidence, strategizing, analyzing the situation. _The squad car's not following the escort truck…_

_…__it's following __**me**__._

Red Robin put his hand to his ear, already beginning to scream Nightwing a warning, when the collision came.

The car veered a complete right turn, and only his Robin training allowed him to leap from his bike before it was crushed beneath the larger, more hostile vehicle. He saw sparks and the flames from the car by his side, but what he was mainly focused on was the sensation of his body flying and flailing through the fog-filled air before crashing, literally _crashing_, against the merciless ground.

_Tuck and roll, tuck and roll!_ Training kicked in just before he hit the street, and knees, head, and chest were all tucked in so his shoulder and side took most of the brute force of the impact.

It still hurt like hell.

But he was still alive; a fact made very clear as he heard the wild screeching of tiles moments after he slammed to a stop against the sidewalk. Screeching, the slamming of breaks on vehicles, then the deafening crashing sounds, like that of an earthquake, it was so close.

What came next chilled him to the bone.

Gunfire.

That was gunfire he was hearing, loud and clear, mere feet away from him.

When he opened his eyes, all he saw was frantic double vision. He did realize that the escort truck was on its side, that there were police everywhere, shooting at **each other**.

And then he felt the breeze change, the fog suddenly, abnormally, begin to change direction.

Because, this wasn't just regular fog anymore.

"Gas!" Red Robin screamed the warning as loud as his aching head and hoarse throat would allow him, his own shaking fingers slamming on his gas mask as he watched several officers drop to the ground, suddenly convulsing with uncontrollable laughing. Not real laughter. Artificial sounds ripped from their throats to sound like laughter. _But they're not having fun. Their body cells are turning on each other, the poisoned cells ripping through the healthy ones. They're screaming, really, but it all sounds like one big joke…_

_We had a plan for this, a contingency plan! Think, Tim, think!_

His head hurt too much to think clear enough.

He turned his head to find the one person that could get him back in the game, the one to clear his mind enough so that they could fix it.

But all that was left of that person was the mangled, smoking remains of their motorcycle.

Tim felt like he was short-circuiting upon that observation.

Nightwing was gone too.

After that, he just lay there, too paralyzed with fear and confusion and pain that his vision clouded over. All he really was aware of was that cops were either dropping to the ground or shooting at each other. Every single vehicle around him was on fire, or blowing up, or crushed. That the fog was now tainted with toxic gas, that there was no Batman to come bail him out this time, no Nightwing.

And that somewhere behind him, a maniac's insane laughter grew more and more distant with each desperate beat of his heart.


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning: LANGUAGE. Yes, this chapter contains a bit of language, but you should all know the obvious cause: JASON TODD aka RED HOOD! Finally in the story! Also a bit of, I guess its violence or minor disturbing stuff (very minor) or something. Just a quick warning to be fair.**

**Thanks to everyone reviewing and following and favoriting. Feedback is awesome.**

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><p>Through the smog and fog of Gotham, with the pitch black skies above and the equally black streets below, the flashing and shots of gunfire lit up the dark alley back in the slums of Gotham. Far enough away from curious ears – or deaf to those listeners that heard but didn't care to listen – the loud sounds of the firefight echoed off the dilapidated brick buildings.<p>

"Damn it, Bobby, we've gotta get out of here!" came the cries of one member of the gunfight party, ducking behind an old dumpster while wildly gesturing at his partner. "Come on, man, the stuff is ruined anyway! Let's get out of here before…"

At that moment, the dumpster gave a loud _CRASH_ as a pair of heavy, military boots landed on top. "Before what?" demanded the tall, menacing figure that now stood above the quivering drug dealer, the silver tip of a hand pistol gleaming in the night despite the lack of moonlight. And when he received no answer, the Red Hood threateningly rubbed the trigger. "I said, _before what_?!"

"B-Before… b-before… before the goddamn Batman shows up, that's what!" the man practically screamed. "I swear, man, I was only in this for the quick cash! I n-needed the m-m-money! I really did, Mr. Hood, I-I swear a-and I know what you and the Batman and all his partners d-do…!"

_Oh, give me a break._ Red Hood crouched down, his gun still trailing on the shaking man, his partner having long run off. "You," he growled. "Are so disappointing. On so many levels."

"Y-Yes, sir."

"Shut up before I kill you, just because of your obvious lack of dignity."

"Y-Yes, sir."

"I said, _shut up_, and let me finish."

The man bit down on his lip and cleared his throat, attempting to cease his trembling and failing.

"I'm gonna let you live…"

"Thank you, s-sir!"

"I wasn't done."

"Sorry."

Red Hood rolled his eyes beneath the helmet and fought off the urge to face-palm. "As I was _saying_, I'm going to let you live; but only because I have a message for your supplier… don't you dare talk! Let me _finish_, you worthless worm. I have a message for your supplier – you tell him that if I ever, _ever _catch him dealing to kids in schoolyards again, I will hunt him down personally and you will all be _begging _that the Batman shows up before I end your pathetic, shit-filled lives. Understand?"

The scum cringed. "C-Can… can I talk now?"

_Ugh. _"Yes. Yes, you can talk."

He immediately began nodding violently, looking so much like a bobble-head that the Hood couldn't hold back a scoff. "I understand, Mr. Hood!" the man exclaimed, scrambling to his feet and already beginning to back away. "I'll tell him! I'll tell him good and long! T-This won't ever happen again! I promise!"

And he was gone.

Red Hood waited until the man's footsteps had faded away completely before jumping off the dumpster and holstering his gun. He looked back at the three corpses littering the alley, and then moved past them, carefully avoid the puddles of crimson liquid beneath his boots as he quickly lit up a match and dropped it on the crates he'd already managed to soak with gasoline. The boxes of pills lit up in a bonfire spectacle, and for a few minutes, the vigilante stood there, hands stuffed in the pockets of his short leather jacket, one foot tapping restlessly on the ground.

Finally, after what felt like close to fifteen minutes, he turned away from the slowly dying blaze, and shuddered as he felt a heavy gust of sleet, fog, and cold wind blow right through his layers of leather, Kevlar, and thick cotton. He looked up at the sky, saw the starless, dreary night, and forced down what he dreaded was disappointment. _Patrol started out so well too_, he thought sourly. _Of course nothing good ever lasts. Now I've gotta hunt down the rest of these stupid scum in __**this **__storm…_

A sudden blinking in the corner of his helmet screen caused his to cease his mental rant and focus on the words being scrolled before his eyes.

_/WARNING: TOXICITY DETECTED: WARNING: TOXICITY DETECTED: ACTION SUGGESTED: FILTRATION SYSTEM ACTIVATED:::/_

"Analyze toxicity," he ordered the small computer, brow furrowing as he watched the loading screen irascibly.

_/TOXICITY ANALYZING: TOXICITY ANALYZING: TOXICITY ANALYZED: RESULTS: JLV3335GF81:::/_

Fists curled tighter, and he was sure if he had still been holding his pistol it would be crushed like a tin can. _Joker laughing venom, gas form_. He immediately grabbed hold of his small holo-projector and switched it on. "Trace source of the gas," he barked, typing quickly on the pad.

A map of Gotham appeared, and a bright red line began tracing itself across the hologram. Running partially on autopilot now, Hood sprinted out of the alley, watching the red line proceed around through his portion of the slums, and…

…and across the highway.

_Damn it. _Upon seeing this new knot in his plans, he was forced to slide to a stop and think over this new situation. No matter how hot his burning desire to catch that disgusting maniac was, there was always going to be that one hindrance.

Batman.

He was in no mood whatsoever to start another fight with the Dark Knight over boundaries and territories – after all, it had been _his _idea that the Bat and his birds keep to their section of Gotham, and he would keep to his. _They _had kept their end of the bargain – except for Nightwing's constant visits that irritated the hell out of him and yet he wouldn't object to – and if _he _were the first one to break their little arrangement…

_Why does all this shit always happen to me?_ The bright, flashing red of his projector teased him before his own eyes, beckoning him to cross that line _just once_. He hadn't even heard word of the Batman all night – almost as if the man had actually taken a night off. Which Red Hood knew was as possible as Ra's Al Ghul settling down and having a normal life in Manhattan. _I could risk it. Not like the Batman would __**kill **__me or anything… unless the replacement and demon spawn are out tonight. Or the dickbird… nah, I don't think he would do anything. It's the other three I've gotta watch out for. I've gotta be in, get out. A single bullet, end the garbage's life, get out. Maybe even drag that psychopath over to my end of the highway so I can have more time… ugh, why am I taking so much time thinking about this?! C'mon, Todd, get a grip and __**GO**__!_

His foot had just touched the first step across the highway when the chorus of crashing, screeching, screams, and gunshots protruded the air, startling him into jumping back a step, heart pounding.

_And I could not have just caused that_, he told himself pathetically, seeing the fog several yards ahead turn a bright orange, reflecting what must've been flames. The gunshots grew in numbers, and he could just faintly hear a refrain of blood-chilling laughter. _That's as good a reason as any to get my ass kicked by a bat tonight_. He ran forward.

He wasn't sure what to expect – most likely an explosion, a couple of pitiful henchmen and the Joker himself in the spotlight of his destruction. He certainly wasn't ready for the police versus police shootout, or the car wrecks, or the obvious lacking of one certain clown freak. As soon as he caught sight of the muddle, he shrunk into the shadows, watching from behind a beat-up dumpster, watching the scene play out, trying to assess this new turn of events.

_No Joker, no henchmen. Just cops and guns and fire. And… aaand…_

_…__the replacement?!_

His eyes locked onto Red Robin, who was slowly sitting up on the other side of the street, swaying like an intemperate drunkard. For a moment, Hood was strongly tempted to run over there. Not to be concerned or anything – no, never that – but at least to rough up the younger boy a bit and figure out just what the hell was going on.

But the urge passed as quickly as it came when his helmet's computer showed the source of the gas – Joker, no doubt – was now on the move, very quickly heading west.

_Let replacement mop up the mess here_, he decided, already leaving the scene. _Doesn't seem like anything he hasn't handled before_. A whisper in the back of his mind rustled. _"Why isn't the Batman here yet? Something's wrong – you know something is wrong. You should stay, check with Red Robin, figure out what is wrong…"_

Yet a mental growl quickly silenced that little conscience. _Deal with the Bat and his birds later. Joker's on the move; so am I_. And move he did, sprinting down alleys when the coast was clear, slowly down and staying in the shadows when he feared watchful eyes. The streets were abandoned – either because people were indoors because of the weather, or because the Joker got to them first. Moving along without curious, snooping strangers staring at him with judgment or google-eyed awe was something he wished he had the opportunity to get used to.

Eventually, the little red line stopped moving, stopping inside an old apartment complex that Hood immediately concluded as the building in the paper – the one scheduled for demolition because of faulty wiring, unsanitary health violations, and the fact that the place was a simple pile of shit just waiting to fall apart.

_At least it's not a warehouse_, he thought bitterly, switching off his computer and whipping two pistols out of their holsters. _I've gotta admit I'm surprised the Knight or one of his sidekicks haven't beat me here yet_. He paused outside the complex for a moment, peering out at the empty roads and rooftops. Just waiting for that fleeting shadow that announced he would not be allowed to execute the freak clown. Not tonight.

Nothing of the sort came.

But from inside, he heard a crashing noise like that of furniture breaking, and that all-too familiar, mind-paralyzing laughter, the sounds of the devil himself.

He approached the front door, all boarded up. _"Something's wrong, something's wrong," _hissed the mind-voice. _"It's all too easy, Hoodie. Take a second and think this over. Everything's too convenient for you tonight."_

"Yeah, it is," he breathed out-loud, not caring he was responding to his mental conscience with actual words. "And does it look like I give a crap about that? No. That bastard dies. Tonight. I mean it." _I gave up a long time ago trying to get the Batman to give a shit about avenging my murder, my death. No more playing the hurt little boy, begging his daddy for justice. You want something done, you've got to do it yourself. Joker __**will **__die tonight; and I'll be the one to have the honors. _

Of course, he chose not to remember all the _other _times he made that same promise, and failed; but, as said before, he ignored that fact.

_Welcome to your day of reckoning, Joker. _

He kicked the door in, ran inside, guns already with the safety off, trigger finger twitching.

And then he stopped short, eyes flying into comical orbs in shock.

_Holy fuck…_

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><p>He awoke to the sound of gunfire. And blood-curdling laughter. And other strange, crashing noises. And footsteps. And the sensation that he was <em>a hundred feet above the ground<em>.

Only, it wasn't a sensation, Nightwing realized as soon as he opened his eyes.

A profanity just barely escape his lips before he bit down on them to keep from crying out in surprise and alerting whoever – most likely Joker – had had the guts to knock him out _several _times and then drag him here.

Hanging from the ceiling.

Over an old… what was it? Hot tub?

Okay, hanging over an old hot tub filled with something thick. And congealing. And **red**.

_Alright, Grayson, get it together. Finish observing your surroundings, then work on getting yourself out of them_.

So he turned his gaze from the sordid tub and looked around him, realizing with a sigh of relief that his mask and lenses were still in place.

He was in what looked like a tiny bathroom, the size suggesting part of an apartment. Why on earth a derelict apartment such as this even had a hot tube he didn't bother to question as he noticed the boarded up window – too small for him to fit through anyway – and the fact that the only other objects inside with him was an old toilet and the shower stall. No glass anywhere, even the door of the shower had been removed, and the tile was missing. Everything else was blunt and practically useless to him.

He couldn't help but feel a bit impressed. _Okay, Joker, you've gotten smarter. I'm still gonna kick your anomalous butt when I get out of here_.

His eyes fell down to his belt, still seeming to be intact. He looked over his bindings. Thick wire cable, pinning his arms to his sides, wrapping underneath his shoulders as well, and his feet. He glanced up, saw that the cable was attached to the ceiling with thick chain; and he also became aware of the wire rope going around his neck once as well.

_Great. I can't cut the chains; and if I cut the cable and it unwinds, I hang myself_.

Though it was obvious who was responsible, he couldn't help the slight feeling of doubt creeping up in his mind.

_Joker's never been this… complex or smart with his stupid schemes before. Why start now?_

He winced as he remembered the crash that sent him flying off his motorbike and mercilessly against a brick wall. Remembered the other cars crashing, the starts of a gunfight, his single shout out to Red Robin before catching a glimpse of a tall man carrying a thick pole before getting knocked out.

_Timmy… gotta get out of this mess to get to Timmy… oh god, please let him be alright_. The thought of the Joker also having his demonic hands on his little brother spurred his mind into overdrive as his eyes darted around for a way out of this mess.

It was then that he realized he could still here the gunshots and laughter nearby – not close enough that it was in the same apartment as his own, but definitely inside or just outside the building. A spark of hope dared to bubble up – perhaps he hadn't been taken too far from the crash zone. Maybe, if he simply managed to get to that window, Tim and the police would be right outside. If he could even get the window unbarred, he might just be able to see them without even unchaining himself. Signal to them, get help…

But as enjoyable as that theory was, bleak reality forced itself into his mind as he reluctantly shoved the thought away. _Not even Joker would've brought me somewhere so nearby, so easy for Batman and the others to find me. And I only hear a single gun being fired…_

The Joker's laughter had died away, but he could still hear the guns, and now someone's shouting voice. Too distant for him to distinguish; but it was moving closer, it seemed. Yes, definitely moving upwards. Towards his position. So, that confirmed he was in an apartment building, and someone – hopefully someone on _his _side – was coming up the stairwell, onto his floor. The shouting and laughter were gone completely, and the gunfire had lessened to a single shot every minute or so. Getting closer each time.

_A cop… please, please let it be a cop…_ He began struggling to get at least his arms free, so that maybe he could cut the cable and grab the chain so that he wouldn't choke himself. If it wasn't a cop, and the Joker himself simply executing other captives or demolishing the rest of the building, he _really _didn't want to still be stuck there while waiting for his turn.

_But the Joker doesn't use a gun_, reason voiced.

He snorted at the thought. _Yeah, but with everything that's going on today, I'm not taking my chances. _He strained to yank one arm up, and only managed to let cold, sharp wire dig into his flesh. _Ugh. How did everything go so wrong?_

It was supposed to be easy. Escort Joker to Arkham. Only a few miles. Not like he was going across the whole city. Just to Arkham.

I was supposed to be _easy_.

The gunshot right outside the bathroom door made him jerk in surprise, and stifle his breath in tension as he heard the door that must lead into the apartment get kicked in.

And then he heard Joker.

But not the clown's natural voice. More mechanical. Robotic…

A recording. What he was hearing now, and the laughter from before, wasn't the Joker himself, but speakers placed around the building, he realized. What must have been – please let it be – abandoned apartment complex.

The words confirmed that it wasn't Joker with the gun, and that he really did have a reason to worry now.

"Now, now, you're being a very bad boy!" screamed the maniac to heaven-knows-who as Nightwing heard things outside the bathroom getting smashed. "I warned you people would get hurt if you didn't play by my rules!"

At that moment, an automatic trigger blew open the restroom's door in a show of small pieces of blasted wood and smoke. That was when the captured vigilante realized _he _was going to be the one getting hurt.

The Joker's voice let out a wild laugh. "Let's see if _this _reminds you what happens when you don't obey the rules of Joker's new funhouse!"

Nightwing felt what was definitely horrified fear turn his stomach upside down as he felt the ceiling above him crumble. And then he was falling down, letting out an uncontained cry of shock as he heard the Joker laugh some more. And he just managed to catch a glimpse of a familiar masked face – _Jason? No, it couldn't be the Red Hood, could it?_ – before he fell into hot sticky liquid that filled his ears, nose, and mouth. Before he felt his head _CRACK _against the edge of the tub. And before he felt himself choking as he blacked out once again.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So sorry this chapter took so long, but I was on a streak with my Star Wars stories and wanted to keep it up as long as I could. But I did finally manage to upload this!**

**I'm not too happy with it, I could've done much better with writing this, but I wanted it updated already. So, if there are gaps and loopholes in here, they will be fixed in chapter 5.**

**Again, some minor language because Jason is a potty mouth.**

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><p>"Now, now, you're being a very bad boy! I warned you people would get hurt if you didn't play by my rules!"<p>

Red Hood cringed at the shrill sound of the Joker's ecstatic screams, blaring from a speaker that he couldn't find with the naked eye. He looked around wildly, swinging his remaining pistol around a trashed living room. It was at that moment when the bathroom door was splintered into little shards, and he caught a glimpse of a falling, black-clad figure as Joker's voice screamed into the air, "Let's see if _this _reminds you what happens when you don't obey the rules of Joker's new funhouse!"

The falling figure locked lensed-eyes with him for a half-second before plunging into a large vat of… something.

It only took that long for the gears in his brain to start churning.

_Oh… ahw, __**shit**__!_

And then he was running, then jumping, and then plunging down into that vat. Which he now realized was filled with a horrendous mixture of that hot, sticky, half-congealed liquid that he just _loathed _so much. He squinted through his waterproof mask, his helmet having been cracked in two pieces three floors down. Fingers scrambled around wildly, searching for the other young man, lungs soon beginning to scream for air when what seemed like a fucking _jet system_ switched on, swirling the revolting liquid everywhere.

_C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!_

Two fingers brushed against something silky. Hair.

He moved his hand down, easily grasping what must've been a collar, and pushed himself upward, dragging the weakly struggling figure up with him.

He burst through the surface, choking and sputtering, immediately hauling himself and his rescue out of the vat of blood before collapsing onto the plywood flooring. The young man he'd hauled out collapsed beside him and immediately began vomiting, spitting up sordid red and black.

Strangely, the clown's voice had gone dead silent. _Eerie_. It took a full three minutes for Red Hood to catch his breath and then stop the backflips his stomach was performing; but once he'd managed to get his shaking down to a minimal, he turned to the still gagging young man beside him. "Alright, circus guy, don't cough up your internal organs," he said, poking the other vigilante in the ribs despite the fact that he was still panting himself. "I've had my fair share of yuck today, saving your sorry ass just now."

After several more desperate gulps for air, the 'circus guy' looked up at the other man, the lenses of his mask widening in surprise. "J-Jason?"

Jason Todd rolled his eyes at his older brother's obvious shock. "Yeah, it's Jason. Now Jason wants some answers. What the hell kind of trouble did you get yourself into now, dickbrain?"

Nightwing managed to sit up halfway straight, leaning against the tub. "I'll explain. Just… just give me a minute…" He closed his eyes, frowning. "How deep was that Jacuzzi anyway? Good grief…"

"Not a Jacuzzi, no way in hell, though it does bear a terrifying resemblance," replied Jason, mimicking the other young man's posture. "Ugh… I've still got some of that stuff up my nose. I swear you owe me half of Gotham for that save."

"Heh. Sorry, Jay. I'm just here for a visit – Gotham is still under the big man's control. You're always invited over to Bludhaven though."

"No thanks."

"Alright then, suit yourself." He opened his eyes, snorting out more red, and started shaking sticking globs of disgusting off his gloves. "Augh, you have no idea how good it is to see you right now."

One eye opened. "Hmph. So, you gonna tell me what the hell is going on here?"

"Kind of confused myself," admitted Nightwing, frowning. "It was supposed to be a simple escort."

"And? What happened?"

"Joker got smarter," was the bleak response. "He hired goons from GCPD to do his dirty work, and then the entire escort was disrupted when they attacked. I got knocked out when my bike crashed, and Red Robin…" His face paled. "Oh God, Timmy…"

"Is his normal sissy self," Jason said blandly, rolling his eyes behind the mask. "Just saw him. Perfectly fine, and it looked like Gordon had things covered with your dirty little cops. What we have to deal with…" he gestured around him. "…is a bit worse."

Nightwing looked around them, grimacing. "Do you know where he's hiding?"

"No. And to make things so much worse, he's got the windows and doors boarded up. Sealed the front once I came in."

"So? We can bust through 'em."

"Like you said, he's gotten smarter." The hatred was so obviously laced through his voice, face contorting into an ugsome sneer. "He's got some sort of shield setup going on; probably bought 'em off the market from Black Mask."

"You'd think Mask would've learned not to deal with psychopaths," Nightwing grumbled, remembering quite clearly the one time Mask and Joker had become a team. It was also the first time the new Red Hood had appeared. He stopped those thoughts right there. "So… we're stuck here?"

Jason cocked his gun. "Not if I have anything to say about it. I have a feeling the bastard is in here somewhere. We find him, get him to disable the security, and _end _him."

"Or…" Dick reached over, and attentively pushed Jason's raised gun down, ignoring the glare he received from the other young man. "…we find him, disable the security, and then I finish my mission: which was escorting him to Arkham."

"Aw, don't pull your antiquated morality act on me now. You said so yourself – he's getting smarter. Smarter, more dangerous, more lethal, and more reason for us to just _end this whole thing_. Right now."

"There is a reason Batman ordered I didn't tell you about the escort," Nightwing cut in. "This is why. It's been two years, Jay. I thought that maybe, after some time to sort yourself out…"

A growl. "What? That I would just forgive and forget?"

"No, no I didn't expect anything like that. I just thought that maybe the bloodlust would've died off a bit."

"You're fooling yourself…"

"You're getting better, Jay," Dick insisted – _oh, the relentless pest_, Jason thought. "I've seen you, I've been watching you. And you _are _getting better. I can see it clearly, I'm positive Bruce is picking up on it. And I know that _you_ feel it to. You don't just go around shooting like a madman. You chose your targets carefully if you do decide they have to die. You're on the right path here, don't screw that up!"

_I can't believe I'm hearing this __**now**__. _"Well, if you trust my judgment then," he challenged. "Why won't you listen to me now when I say that that freak _has. To. Die. _Before anyone else gets hurt."

There was a beat of silence, a hesitant pause that made Hood roll his eyes and then stand up. "Right. Choke on your own words, dickiebird, but I've got a clown to catch."

"Wait for me…"

"Like hell I am." A sneer – though not quite as menacing as it would've been if directed at Robin or the demon spawn. "You bust us a way out of here, I'll bag the clown, and we'll both get out of this hellhole together."

Dick slid to his knees, one eyebrow cocked above his mask. "Here's a better plan: we work together to find Joker, and when we do… well, we cross that bridge when we come to it."

_You're not gonna continue the saintly conversion stunt?_ He peered at him behind the lenses, searching the other man's face for any sign of deception; even though he knew perfectly well, in the back of his mind, that he wouldn't find any. His fists clenched a bit, and then a sigh/growl escaped his throat. "Gaaaauuuuuaaa….. _fine_." He spat out the last word, determined to ignore the little whisper in his gut that spoke _"It's you and Dick again, teamed up just like old times."_ To which he mentally argued, _This is __**nothing **__like old times, this is just a temporary truce so I can get Joker without getting on the bad side of the Bat._

_"__Lies, lies, lies."_

_Shut __**up**__._

'Pissed-off' levels steady growing higher, now, he begrudgingly held out a hand and helped the other vigilante to his feet, the urge to criticize tingling painfully on his lips. He eyed his brother's uniform, frowning as he made a new discovery. "Since when do _you _where red?"

He seemed a bit surprised at the statement. "Duh, doofus, I've been wearing this new outfit for months now. Ever since the whole… y'know… 'Slade wants me as his apprentice Renegage' thing."

_Oh_. He'd forgotten about that, honestly; and now that he eyed Nightwing's new colors, he recognized the striking resemblance to the Renegade suit Dick had worn as apprentice to Deathstroke Terminator. "Wait… you _kept_ the suit?" _Weirdo_.

That infamous lopsided smile appeared. "Thought I might as well. Y'know, since all my brothers seem to be going through a red phase. Red Hood, Red Robin…"

"I get it."

"…Red Nightwing, Red Batman, Red Batgirl, Red Robin jr… that's Damian…"

"Now you're just being annoying and making stuff up."

"…Red Batgirl II, Red Catwoman if you count all the times Selina's been helping us lately…"

"Dick! Don't make shoot you!" _How the hell do you do it? I'm not even pissed off with you, anymore. Shit. I hate that. I hate how you drive me freaking insane, make me think your just as bad as the Bat… and then you pull the whole big-brother-friendly crap and I can't even glare at you. Damn_. "Can we just go now?"

"Sure, Jay." Nightwing reached over and pat the younger man on the back, feeling the tense muscles beneath the traditional leather jacket, and offering another warm smile. _I wish the circumstances were better, Jay; but I might be able to tolerate this whole disaster if we actually get to work together again_. "Let's go catch us a clown."

* * *

><p>The gunshots were slowly beginning to wind down. The ground littered with fallen men, both the good and the bad. It was Gordon's pistol that kept on firing, mostly shock and adrenaline keeping him going <em>How did this happen? How did that maniac get to my own men? Hire them, bribe them, threaten them… whatever he did to cause <em>_**this**__?_ His eyes scanned the area wildly, and he caught a glimpse of Red Robin attacking from the rooftops, his birdarangs taking out his men in puffs of knock-out gas or a blunt-edge knocking them out on the back of the head.

The teenager jumped from roof to roof, trying to stay focused, mostly just on the verge of panic because he'd lost Joker _and _Nightwing, not to mention half the GCPD escorts had been working for that damn clown the whole entire time. He felt sick at the thought; after years of working with Batman, he should've been used to betrayal, the stabbing in the back. But it still _hurt_. It still made him angry as heck. _You did this_, he thought bitterly, hurling a birdarangs at one corrupt cop and knocking him unconscious. _You did this_. He turned to another. _And you. And you. And you, and you, and you_…

He was usually good at controlling his emotions. He would find a logical reason for each mistake, each betrayal, each flaw; and then he would work that logic over and over in his mind until he had a reasonable and believable excuse.

But this was for _him_. These men had been willing to help the _Joker_ escape. And yes, he knew just how damn terrifying the clown could be, that he would make you and your loved ones squirm and scream before ending you in the most brutal way possible. He understood that; but the small, irrational part of him was still disgusted with each cop he took out, especially when it was _Dick's_ life on the line this time. _And right after what happened with him and Damian last time they fought the clown…_

_We need help_. He couldn't do this alone. Batman was off world, Nightwing was missing, calling on the Red Hood to help was as logical in his mind as asking a volcano to negotiate with a thunderstorm on his behalf.

Robin.

Dick's words rang in his ears. _"Under no circumstances do I want Damian involved in this."_

_Ugh_. He knew that the youngest Wayne child was probably in the Batcave, ready to hop onto his R-cycle and come over without batting an eye if Tim picked up that communicator and explained the situation. He wasn't fond of the boy, but he did have his father's skills. Mostly.

_But Dick doesn't want him involved. If something happened to Damian, he'd…_

But he couldn't do this alone. He just couldn't!

He picked up the comm., cursing himself all the while as he pushed the buttons, and then waited for the demon spawn's irritating voice to patch through.

But he got nothing but static.

_What?_

He tried again.

No answer.

Damian wasn't in the Batcave.

Neither was Alfred.

They weren't getting his calls for help.

_No, no, no, no, no!_ He needed them! He hit the buttons again. _Be there, be there!_

Nothing.

Where the hell _were _they?!

The rain and sleet billowed around him as he stood there, stock-still on the rooftop of some pathetic café, soaked to the bone but not caring, unaware that the battle below had ceased and that Gordon was repeatedly calling his name.

_Damian, you jerk, you'd better not be ignoring me because it's __**me**__ calling you!_ A little swell of fury swelled in his gut; but then he put it out. _No, he wouldn't do that. Not if I'm with Dick. He wouldn't risk anything happening to __**him**__._

_Then where are you, you incompetent vexation?_

He kept pressing the CALL button, quite near a very un-Tim-like panic when Gordon's voice _finally_ got through the frantic walls of his mind and broke into his thoughts.

"Red Robin!"

He looked down, numbly, to see the commissioner gesturing frantically. "We got one of them to talk! Red Robin! Get down here!"

He was sliding down to the ground seconds later, storming over to where two of the remaining loyal cops were holding one of their traitors, the scumbag tied up and kneeling on the pavement near a burning squad car.

"Tell him what you told me, Maverick," Gordon commanded the prisoner, abhorrence threaded through his voice, tone so bitter and disgusted and disappointed.

"H-He told us to give you a message, if w-we were caught," the treacherous cop stammered. A rookie, only a little older than Dick."P-Please, C-Commissioner, R-Red Robin, he threatened my g-girl, s-said he'd… he'd make h-her scream for him if I-I didn't do-o what he a-asked…"

He heard the explanation, felt the ice thaw a bit around his heart; but not completely. "What's the message?" he demanded, still scowling and giving his best impression of a bat-glare beneath his cowl, knowing very well that the 'he' in the man's statement was the Joker.

"H-He s-said you've got th-three hours to find them, that they're located in y-your… y-your good old m-meeting place where you c-can see the sunrise at it's b-best. He said y-you've got three hours, three hours he said, o-or… or… or y-you'd b-be scraping them o-off the p-pavement. Oh, oh god, Mr. R-Red Robin, I-I'm so sorry…!"

_Them?! _"Whose them? Who else does he have besides Nightwing?" Pieces were fitting together, but not enough, not quick enough.

"H-He said y-you'd know. I-I don't know, I s-swear! He said… he said you'd know… all you'd have to do is l-look at your right shoulder to know… that's all I know! I swear to god that's all I know!"

Things began clicking. He sub-consciously grabbed at his right shoulder, knowing very well the jagged scar put there by a certain _someone_. _But how would Joker get Nightwing __**and **__the Red Hood at the same time? It doesn't make any sense…_

But since when did the maniac _ever _make sense? He didn't have time to worry about that now. The firefight must've lasted a half hour. He had 2 ½ left, and if he knew anything about the Joker, it was that it would take quite a while to work through all the clues. _Where the sunrise could be seen at its best, old meeting place... _

Docks. Even if Nightwing and the-maybe-hostage-Red-Hood weren't there, Joker wanted them there for a reason. _I shouldn't play his game, should be smart, not jump on any lead as soon as it pops up. It'll waste time, endanger lives… _

But he really didn't have any other options at the moment.

"Commissioner, get all the men you can spare to the Gotham docks!" he hollered, moving to his own motorcycle. But wait. Right. He didn't have a cycle anymore. _Crap_.

"Red Robin." Gordon's voice sounded strangely calm, and Tim turned around quickly, squinting through the growing storm as the commissioner gestured to his squad car. "You can ride with me," the man offered.

Old suspicion bubbled up. _But Dick trusts him – he's told me countless times, if I had to trust a Gotham cop, chose Jim Gordon_.

Plus, it was damn cold out here, and flying with his grapnel lines would pretty much be suicide.

"Alright." _Fine. I'll give you a chance. For Dick_. "Alright."

And they were off.

Unwittingly heading in the opposite direction of a certain apartment building, filled with insane laughter and two trapped vigilantes locked inside.

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: Alright, so there's chapter 4 for ya! In this story, all the Robins/Hood will have their traditional suits used before the New 52, _except _for Nightwing, who I wanted to try with the red Nightwing uniform used in the New 52. If you don't know what that looks like, just google it or something and you'll find dozens of pictures. I like the suit with the red lenses, used in the Prankster arc, so that's the one you'll probably want to look at.**

**Also, I have a story recommendation for you! "Tectonic Doom" by paganpunk2. _Dick and Tim set out for a 'brocation', but when an impenetrable dome settles over their campsite, and earthquakes start disrupting cities all over the world, its up to these two vigilantes to stop humanity from going on the extinct list. Only, their civilians while doing so. _Its just an incredible story with very exciting plots and emotions, so check it out! The sequel, "The Silent Treatment" is currently in progress as well!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Oh my gosh, I suck at updating on time. So sorry that you awesome followers/favorit..ers/reviewers had to wait so long. Is favoriters a word? Oh well, anyways, thanks to all who are supporting this story :) And next chapter we may get to see some Batman. Possibly. Review and let me know what you guys would like to see, since I need to build up the plot a bit!**

* * *

><p>Nightwing muffled a curse as he nearly fell through <em>another <em>gaping hole in the floorboards. Only a quick flailing of his arms allowed him to latch onto the wall, and save himself from falling down four stories and splattering all over the floor. Trembling in the slightest, he regained his balance and attempted vainly to ignore Red Hood's careless snickering. "Thanks for the concern," he shot back at the younger man, trying to regain his composure.

"Oh come on, that is the fifth time you've done that," the Hood argued, cocking an amused eyebrow. "Not my fault your blood cells can't send the "don't step there, it's dangerous!" message up to your walnut-sized brain on time."

"For your information, my brain is a perfectly normal size," he replied. "And it's road work season for my veins – all the blood cells have to take a detour, and that uses up precious time." He chose to ignore the fact that Tim would chastise him for using 'veins' when the correct term was 'nerves'.

_You've got to be kidding me_. "More like your _normal _brain isn't processing enough data, and some cells had to be laid off work. Admit it, dickbird, you're whole body is a sad, sad, unemployed gathering place for the miserable and despondent."

"Hardy har har." He shot the other man a warm glance, and smirked when Jason turned away and pretended not to notice. _You're getting there, Jay. Just a few more weeks, maybe days, and you'll be one of us again_. He returned his attention to the matter at hand, searching the empty, filth-laden halls for any signs of Joker or his repulsive traps. The speakers had remained silent for the half hour they had been wandering the complex, and it was becoming unnerving. "Wonder what he's up to," he murmured to himself than his company.

But Jason answered anyway, "Probably gonna dump a bucketful of limbs or shoot a bunch of eyeballs at us. Or, y'know, he could just repeat the whole bathtub of blood thing…"

"Jay, you're being disgusting."

"Says the guy with the red stuff still tangled all in his hair. Seriously, dude, you need a haircut."

He absentmindedly fingered his shoulder-length, ebony locks, winking. "C'mon, everyone loves the hair. Even Bruce is used it by now."

Jason pulled a face. "You look like a freaking girl."

He slung an arm over the younger man's shoulders, grinning. "Yet you love me all the same."

"Get off!" Roughly shoving Nightwing backwards, Jason took the time to scowl once more and cross his arms. "Just a question: how the _hell _are you still all jolly when we are in _this _situation."

"C'mon, Jay, you were laughing five seconds ago."

"I was not!"

"Was too. Seriously, how can you deny it?!"

"I was not!"

"Was too!"

It was at that point when the speakers once again crackled to life, bringing in that horrid laughter and killing whatever little light Dick had seen in the atmosphere. "Aw, look at my two favorite birdies, bickering like all good Robins should! I was beginning to worry that you two would actually… get along. Yuck."

Immediately, Red Hood's pissed-off meter skyrocketed, and he grit his teeth against the fact that the clown he hated so much was watching them, mocking them, and hiding where they just couldn't find him! "Where the hell are you, ya half-assed freak!" he challenged, bringing out his pistols. "Come out here and I'll show you a _real _fight!"

"Yes, that would be entertaining, wouldn't it?" the maniac teased. "But then again, sitting here watching you two stumble around is just as fun! You haven't even seen gotten the entire tour yet!"

"Tell us where you are and I'll be _flying _through this place faster than Superman!" Hood replied, half-noticed Nightwing was motioning for him to calm down and fully not caring.

Dick, realizing Jason was just going to keep shouting his head off until Joker decided to end him right then and there, intervened. He stepped in front of his brother, and looked around for a camera or microphone. "What's with the games, Joker?" he called, considerably more calm and tactful than Hood's talking. "This isn't your usual MO. Decided to spice things up a bit?"

"Oh, you do know me so well, don't you, Wingie? I must say, I've really missed you, you being all the way in Bludhaven nowadays…"

_Good, good, keep him talking_. "I hope you realize that this little stunt of yours won't last forever. This wasn't your best scheme, Joker…"

"Yeah, and involving _me _was just signing your death wish!" Hood cut in, cocking his weapon. "Enough with the blabbering – where are you?!"

There was a loud, long sigh on the clown's part, as if he were an exasperated parent talking to his two impatient boys. "Well, if you are so eager to get into the excitement, I suppose I can give you a little taste of the sweets. But no complaining now! Not my fault you two are just so darn excitable!"

_Excitement? Wha…_

And then the walls collapsed around them, bringing up dust and grime and a cloud of _something_. Red Hood was faintly aware of a shouting noise coming to his right… _Dick?_ He moved towards the sound, reaching out to grab the older boy; yet his hand met nothing. His mask couldn't penetrate the brown fog around them, and as he began stumbling around, still unable to feel anything or find the other vigilante, his heart began skipping beats. _Damn it, damn it, damn it!_ "Nightwing?" he dared call out, hating how his voice sounded mildly desperate, hating even more the fact that he received no answer. "Nightwing?!"

* * *

><p>Damian Wayne knew when he had made a mistake. Sure, he usually never admitted it out loud, and regret was always dependent on whether Drake was being an ineffectual moron or not… but he knew. No doubt about that.<p>

And this time… oh, this time, in his mind's eyes, this was the worst mistake he had ever made. Actually giving into Pennyworth's mother-henning and going with the butler into the kitchen wasn't _too _bad; but leaving the radio _and _the comm. system out of his reach and ears was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Walking down into the Batcave with a mouthful of cookie had gotten his senses all wired tight, his heartbeat speeding up even as he told himself to _get a hold of yourself, Damian! Nothing's happened, Grayson is fine, I'm sure Drake hasn't killed him yet, and there's no reason to be acting like Father when he's all Daddybats…_

And seeing the little red light blinking on the side of the computer screen had made his anxiety even worse, completely erasing any good his silent mantra might have done him as he scrambled over to the keyboard and typed in the access code. It was a missed call icon, and from the data underneath, it had come from Drake's comm. _But they aren't supposed to call unless… _

Unless something had gone wrong.

He finally managed to access the little blinking symbol and tapped on it twice, spitting out his snack onto the floor as his eyes widened.

Drake had called him over a _dozen _times?!

All the calls only seconds apart, all from the same comm., all screaming the same thing: _something had gone horribly, terribly wrong!_

The youngest Batman protégé didn't notice Alfred descending into the cave as his fingers danced around the keyboard, punching in Red Robin's comm. number and forcing himself to call first before jumping on his R-cycle and riding the escort route. He thought about calling Grayson too; but first Drake. It had been the middle-child who had tried to contact him, meaning it was either _he _who needed help first, or that Nightwing' comlink had been disabled.

Both meant that his earlier, gut-twisting sensation had been correct, and they were in trouble.

Red Robin answered after two rings. "Robin?!"

And then he was screaming into the computer's microphone, his 'demon spawn side' coming full force. "DRAKE! What has happened, tell me now!"

"OW! Robin, you're breaking my eardrums…!"

"Where is Grayson?!" He vaguely noticed Alfred stop short behind him, elderly face pale and eyes widening, but he didn't acknowledge him. "I repeat, tell me what has happened, and why isn't Grayson contacting me?"

He could hear the hesitation on the other end of the line, and it only set him off more. "Drake…"

"Robin, I need you to listen closely, alright?" Strangely, Red Robin's voice had gone from panicky to a strangely calm tension. "Is Agent A there?"

Immediately, 'Agent A' crossed the short distance over so that he was by Damian's side, the English elder's face seeming even more wrinkled and old with the newly found stress. "I'm right here, Master Timothy. Am I to assume you are _not _on a speaker of any sort?"

"No, I'm with GCPD, but they're giving me some space. Now, I need you both to listen very carefully. Robin, I'll get to you in a moment, but please be quiet while I talk. Agent A, I want you to do a trace on Nightwing's suit tracker. I can't get a clear reading, and hopefully the Batcave will provide a better search."

Something as cold and hard as a stone dropped into the pit of his gut, and he knew Damian felt the same from the stoic expression on the child's face. "Sir, might I ask why you need Master Dick's tracker?"

"I… I don't have Nightwing's current location," was the grave reply. "And, like I said, my own devices are damaged and I can't find him on my own."

Alfred startled when he heard a feral growl coming from the _boy _standing next to him. "Drake, I swear to you that if you have lost Grayson I shall…"

"Robin, I need you to come meet me near the docks."

"…hunt you down and… what?" Red Robin's next order caught the twelve-year-old off guard. The idea of Drake asking _him _for help seemed absurd. "What was the last request?"

A heavy sigh. "I don't really have time to go over the whole Robin/Red Robin feud with you right now, okay? So I'm saying this once and only once: I need your help. Get your bike and meet me down near the Gotham docks – we had a lead on where Nightwing was, but it's a stupid dead end. So start moving, ASAP."

He'd never, _ever _felt this kind of tingling sensation running through his veins. "Drake… does that mean the Joker has Grayson?"

No reply except for a long, long pause and then a, "Get over here, Robin."

The line went dead.

And Damian stood there for a moment in a cold, terrible silence, hearing Alfred's worried muttering behind him, trying to convince himself that he wasn't worried, he wasn't slowly panicking, and that he wasn't scared half to death for his… brothers… both of them…

* * *

><p>Tim shoved the comm. back into the pocket of his utility belt, trying to keep his breathing even and calm. He thought about calling back and adding the fact that the Red Hood was somehow involved in this whole mess as well; but then thought against it. If he himself were not very fond of the Bat family's prodigal son, than Damian was Hood's own little antichrist. The boy hd never even really met Jason face-to-face; except for the time where Jason had shot the kid through the shoulder, and that second time when he's witnessed the Red Hood beating Nightwing into a bloody pulp.<p>

Yeah. Best to leave the little demon in the dark about that particular detail for as long as possible.

Now, he focused on his new predicament. He'd already gotten Damian involved… That decision was made miniscule compared to his next question.

When to call Batman.

* * *

><p>"Nightwing?!"<p>

Jason was fairly certain that he'd been transported completely out of the apartment building, because he just kept walking around blindly and never met a single object. No walls, no crappy furniture, no Nightwing. He could still hear shouting in the distance, and the Joker's laughter… but damn it! He couldn't see a freakin' thing!

And then finally, after what seemed to be hours of stumbling around like a lame dog, he felt the floor beneath him give away. Then he was falling, tumbling down. The fog disappeared into a never-ending black void, one he couldn't get out of. Couldn't see, couldn't get out of. He shouted out, and no one answered. And for a split second, he was trapped back in that old grave of his past, in that damn coffin, all alone…

"_Jason_!"

He was snapped back to reality by a strong hand grasping his wrist, stopping his fall. He looked up, squinting through the darkness, and could just make out Nightwing, perched on what seemed to be an old banister, holding him up. The older boy's face transformed from concern to teasing. "What happened, Jay? You're brain cells get laid off too?"

He swallowed thickly, shuddering once before shoving back his former terror to the back of his mind. "Let me answer a question with a question: shut up."


End file.
